


Setting Fire to our Insides

by WiinterIsNotComing



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Gossip Girl, Drug Use, Multi, New York City, So much absurdity, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 11:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3808807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiinterIsNotComing/pseuds/WiinterIsNotComing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Spotted at Grand Central, bags in hand, Clarke Griffin." </p><p>It was only a year ago Clarke Griffin mysteriously disappeared for boarding school, and just as suddenly, she's back.</p><p>Or the "Gossip Girl" AU in which Clarke Griffin is the It Girl of the Upper East Side and Bellamy Blake is part of the reason she left in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So many things! First off I've never been to New York City, so this is all going off Gossip Girl and the internet. Secondly, I'm using GG for a central storyline but overall it'll be pretty different. There are some lines and details taken from both shows, to which I take no credit for. Be aware if you haven't watched Gossip Girl and plan to in the future, it's a bit spoiler-y? The characters from the 100 that have taken on the role of a character from GG does not necessarily mean they're going to be just like them (Finn Collins, you'll never be as pretty as Nate Archibald, I'm sorry). But many surprises coming up here!
> 
> Lastly, this is un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine. And there are some mentions of dark themes (suicide, depression, eating disorders, etc...) Just as a forewarning. You can never be too careful.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy this disastrous wonderland.

Hey Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here,  
I have the biggest news ever. One of our many sources, Fox16, sends us this: “Spotted at Grand Central, bags in hand, Clarke Griffin.” Was it only a year ago our mysterious It Girl disappeared for “boarding school” and just as suddenly she’s back? Don’t believe me see for yourselves. Lucky for us, Fox16 sent us proof. Thanks for the photo, Fox.

XOXO,  
Gossip Girl

~.~

Clarke needed coffee, but she had four cups already and it wasn’t even two yet. Her mouth felt dry and her palms clammy. She felt it the second she got off the train and tasted the New York City air. It nearly choked her sensitive lungs, having been in a small rural area of the east coast for the past year. She was spoiled by the clean air and glowing nighttime sky. She already missed it

But when her mom called and told her Wells was in the hospital, she knew it was time to return to the polluted pits of hell.

She had been so desperate to get on the next train that she only packed a small amount of her things. She told herself she would only stay for a few days, until Wells was better and she knew everyone was okay. Then she would be gone again, back in hiding away from all the problems this city seemed to cause.

Her mom being the mischievous woman she is told her she was at Ms. Reyes’ luncheon. She was tempted to go straight to the hospital, but they would notify her mother immediately and that would just cause a string of extra problems she didn’t need. 

Abby knew full well that Raven and Clarke hadn’t spoken since she left. She didn’t know why, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her from getting her daughter back in the spotlight for the whole Upper East Side to see.

Still, despite her leggings and sweater attire, she let her mom send a town car to pick her up at Grand Central. She made her way through the throngs of people, pausing at the staircase overlooking the main hall. Nostalgia began to wriggle its way into her mind. She had missed the noise, the constant movement of the city. And the food. Yeah, she’d definitely missed the food.

She allowed herself a minute to glance around the station, observe the New Yorkers and tourists alike before walking down the stairs and making her way over to where the chauffer would be waiting. 

As she headed down she saw a head of dark curls poking out of the crowd. 

She practically stumbled over a step at the sight of it. She clung to the railing to prevent herself from falling on flat on her face. 

It’s not him, she told herself. You’ve been back in this city for less than five minutes, it’s not him. The second he heard she was back he would probably run in the other direction. She wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to see her again. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before attempting to walk again. Her legs felt like jelly, but she forced herself to move.

Just for a few days, and then she was gone.

~.~

When Raven had woken up that morning to find her mom already on her third mimosa, she knew the day was going to be shit.

She spent an hour lying in bed drinking cold coffee with skim milk and attempting to read up on her English novel. But Nabokov could only be so impressive, and she found herself spending half that hour with the open book on her face. She felt sick thinking about all of the people who would be showing up in their apartment soon. The idea of having to stand next to Finn for three hours grinning like a fucking pageant girl made her hangover much worse than it needed to be.

Still, when the sound of Sandra instructing the caterers began filling their living space, she forced herself up and stood in front of her closet for another half hour before throwing on the most comfortable “luncheon appropriate” clothes she could find. 

Since when had her life become so damn material?

Everyone seemed to appreciate the Reyes' for having an excessive amount of alcohol and food when it was still early afternoon. People poured in wearing their new clothes, on their phones and ready to stand around discussing Jaha’s new business approach or which Ivy Leagues their precious seniors were going to attend. 

Sometimes she wished she could drop out of high school and move to Virginia to just work as a fulltime mechanic. Then Monroe handed her a glass of vodka soda and a cupcake and said, “You look like shit. I mean, your outfit is great, love your shoes, but seriously, did you even sleep last night?”

She wouldn’t survive one day in the middle of small town fucking Virginia.

She took one look at her mother who was getting very close to being drunk and settled for eating the whole cupcake in two bites and leaving the vodka soda on the mantle. “You were with me less than twelve hours ago. What do you think?”

A night with their fake IDs and rundown bars in Brooklyn where no one knew who they were was the kind of night they had needed, but Raven had gotten too excited and drank a bit too much. She could tell it was showing through her heavy bags and red eyes. 

Harper appeared next to Monroe sporting a fresh face and large smile. It made Raven want to punch her. 

“Go put eye drops in your eyes before Maya notices and asks if you’re stoned.” Harper said, still maintaining that stupidly cheerful smile.

Monroe seemed to notice their friend’s upbeat attitude with great displeasure. “You had seven tequila shots last night, how are you even alive?”

Raven turned and nearly ran away, not bothering to listen for a response. She headed into the bathroom upstairs and washed her face for the second time that morning before putting in eye drops. She started smothering her face with foundation and concealer when her phone buzzed.

Gossip Girl update. She ignored it.

When her phone started buzzing with text messages from several different people she was tempted to throw it at the wall. Instead, with a scowl she unlocked it and found ten different texts from all different people, each one about the same thing.

**Clarke’s back!!!!**

**The Ice Queen has returned, god help us all**

_(Picture of Clarke at Grand Central)_ **Does this mean we have to start wearing blue ties to school again?**

**Hey Reyes, ready to give up the throne?**

**DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?**

She turned off her phone and shoved it in the drawer. Fuck that, fuck this luncheon, fuck all those bitches downstairs waiting to interrogate her, fuck Finn for being such an oblivious puppy, and fuck Clarke Griffin for thinking she could walk back into this city like nothing happened.

Going back downstairs, she felt the slightest bit more confident now that she didn’t look like death and she was wearing her red lipstick. She saw Finn talking with some white-haired men, most likely about school, and Harper and Monroe settling on the couch with Murphy, who looked just as unhappy to be here as she did.

She walked over. “Murphy.” She barked. His eyes shot up and he raised his eyebrows slowly. 

“What can I do for you, Reyes?” He asked smoothly. 

She glared. “Got any smokes?”

“Which kind?”

“I don’t care, either, something.” She threw up her hands.

“Raven!” Her boyfriend called from across the room. She clenched her eyes shut, and could literally feel Murphy smirking.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked. She wondered how un-amused her mother would be if she kicked him.

She felt Finn wrapping his arm around her waist, “Hey, Mr. Andrews wanted to speak with you.”

“About what?” She snapped, but let him lead her away. Behind her, she heard Monroe and Harper’s phones buzzing, and then a collective gasp.

“You will not believe what is on Gossip Girl.” Harper said loudly.

“Someone just saw Clarke getting off the train at Grand Central.” Amazement filled Monroe’s voice.

“Oh good,” She could barely make out Murphy muttering, “Things were starting to get dull around here.”

Raven glanced at Finn to see if he had heard. From the calm smile on his face, he hadn’t.

He had started acting normal when Clarke left. It was one of the only good things that happened after the disappearance of her best friend. Even if it was Finn’s fault for everything that happened with the three of them, she distracted him even after Finn promised Raven to not fuck up their relationship a second time.

She couldn’t bring it in herself to believe him, but here she was, more than a year after that incident, letting her boyfriend tell Mr. Andrews how interested Raven is in studying Biochemistry and Molecular Biophysics. 

Biophysics. What a joke.

~.~

The delicious smell of food hit Clarke’s nose the second the elevator doors to the Reyes’ penthouse dinged open. The noise of people chatting quietly made her stomach clench, but the thought of food was enough to override it. 

Upon seeing Abby Griffin, strung up in pearls and wearing a designer dress, she considered vying for a hotdog on the sidewalk instead.

“Clarke!” A soft voice called out. She groaned internally. Too late.

She turned to see Maya, the sweet girl from Constance who sat next to her in chemistry sophomore year. Automatically she gave her a dazzling smile, one she hadn’t used in a year. It made her cheeks burn.

“Maya!” She cooed and then realized how much like her old self she sounded. It made her skin feel grimy. “How are you?”

The girl gave her a quick hug. “I’m great! How are you? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I heard you were at boarding school. How was it?”

“I am at boarding school,” she said with a nod, emphasizing that she _is_ and is not changing that to _was_. “It’s been amazing. I really love it. The quiet is nice.”

“Is it really quiet? I’ve been told boarding school can get a bit crazy.”

Oh it could, Clarke thought grimly. But she’d managed to avoid all that craziness in her time there so far.

Before she could voice a response though, she heard her mother’s heels clacking behind her. She'd recognize those footsteps anywhere.

“Clarke, honey, I’m so glad you’re here.” She kissed her cheek lightly. Clarke found herself leaning into it. Despite their differences, she had missed her. 

“I’m only stopping by.” Clarke said quickly. “Then I’m going to see Wells.”

Abby nodded. “Of course. But you’ll say hello to everyone first? People are dying to see you.” She grasped her hand and in her motherly nature tugged Clarke into the living room full of people. Clarke smiled at Maya over her shoulder before succumbing to her inevitable fate.

“So everyone already knows I’m here?” She asked suspiciously. She was hoping to stay as under the radar as possible, although she knew _Gossip Girl_ would catch wind of her appearance soon enough.

“The second I heard you were coming I let Sandra know. She knows Raven would be excited to see you. You told her you were coming, right?”

“Uhh-“ fuck “-no, I didn’t.”

She glanced around the apartment at all the people watching her. Thankfully, most of the adults didn’t care for a teenage girl returning home. No, the people who stared were all familiar faces from school. She saw Harper and Monroe, who both smiled gleefully when they found her. She tried to smile back, but quickly forgot it when one face in particular caught her eye.

Finn apparently hadn’t gotten the message everyone else seemed to have that she was here, because his face was in more shock than awe. She thanked whatever higher power for that. It would’ve been very difficult to handle if her old best friend’s boyfriend still pined after her.

She looked away before that look of shock faded and turned into something else. Not what she needed.

“Sandra,” Abby said gleefully. Ms. Reyes turned at the sound of her friend’s voice, and a large smile much like her daughters broke out across her face. 

“Clarke!” The woman opened up her arms, “So good to see you.”

Clarke allowed herself to be engulfed in the woman’s hug, not failing to smell the alcohol on her breath. She politely pulled away.

“It’s nice to be home.” Clarke said and wrapped her arms around herself. 

“Oh, please tell me you’re reenrolling in Constance. I know Raven has missed you dearly.” She sipped her mimosa and maintained that happy look on her face. 

At least she isn’t drinking straight vodka and throwing plates at the walls. 

She suddenly felt guilty. Her old best friend’s mom had been getting back on her two feet when she’d left, but before that it had been bad. There was so many times when Raven showed up at Clarke’s apartment building at one in the morning that she and the doorman were on a first name basis. 

She wondered if that same doorman still stood outside their building. She used to bring him croissants from the bakery across the street.

She felt the sudden need to see Raven. They had been estranged long before she ran off to boarding school. Her finding out that Clarke and Finn had hooked up before Clarke even knew she existed was not helpful for their friendship.

All of these things she had done in the past came flying at her as she took further steps into this city. It was overwhelming.

And then she felt a set of eyes on her back and she turned to see the girl it belonged to. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, her lips parted in slight shock. She almost looked sad.

She didn’t realize how much she’d missed Raven until she was standing right in front of her.

“Clarke.” She said thinly. She wore a pair of tight pants and a stylish, grey tunic, her hair in its usual ponytail and lips covered with her classic bright red lipstick. She looked good. Probably better than Clarke did.

Seeing the look on her old friend’s face made her really, really want a drink.

“Raven.” She said breathily and felt her face brighten slightly in an attempt to say _look how much I fucking missed you._

The girl watched her for a long moment, as if analyzing her next battle move. She pressed her lips together and then she was smiling, but it wasn’t the happy, warm one Clarke wanted.

She expected it though, the grin that was as fake as the one she herself had been sporting earlier. She also expected the overly tight hug she got pulled into. The kind of hug that said how angry she was.

“Oh my god, it’s so great to see you.” Raven said loudly as she squeezed her ribs. The unease settling in Clarke’s stomach had increased. This was a bad idea. Coming home was a bad idea.

“You too.” Clarke murmured. When Raven pulled away, she tucked her hands into the overly long sleeves of her sweater. 

“Are you just visiting?” Raven asked with a glint in her eyes. 

Clarke glanced at her mom, knowing the woman would be unhappy if she actually said the truth out loud.

She did anyway.

“Yeah, just visiting. I’m here to see Wells, mostly.” Clarke said uneasily and clutched her bag.

“Oh, of course.” That glint was gone, replaced with the slightest bit of sympathy. Just. The. Slightest.

“I should actually head over there now…” Clarke drifted off and took a step back, ready to flee.

“Visiting hours are almost over, sweetie, you won’t have enough time.” Abby cut in with a hopeful look on her face.

Mischievous, malicious Abigail Griffin. She’d planned that out so perfectly, hadn’t she?

“I’m sure if you gave them a quick call it wouldn’t be a problem.” Clarke said tightly.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Her mother asked. Clarke inhaled deeply in an attempt to keep calm. All of this, the people, the scare at Grand Central that nearly made her heart burst from her chest in the worst way possible, the smell, the noise, it was all coming down on her and she just wanted her friend. Her best friend who had been one of the only people outside of school she’d talked to over the past year. 

Her best friend who for an unknown reason tried to kill himself.

And Raven understood the look on Clarke’s face perfectly. She turned to Abby and said, “I’m sure Wells would love to see his best friend after the car crash, Abigail.”

The car crash. Right. Did she know the truth? Did anyone except his father, her mother and other close relatives? Probably not. Suicide was one thing. Failed attempt? That was so much worse in their little world.

But still, Clarke gave Raven a look of hope. She didn’t return it, but her saying something had been enough to know that despite everything, she still cared.

Abby eventually sighed in exasperation. “Alright, I’ll give them a call and let them know you’re coming.”

Clarke nodded. “Thank you.” She glanced at Ms. Reyes, who had seemed to be in a daze. “It was great to see you, Sandra.”

“You too, sweetie.” She said softly.

All she could manage was the slightest of nods at Raven before turning on her heels and nearly running out of the apartment. 

Only when she was in a cab on the way to the hospital did she remember she forgot to get food. Her stomach growled at her as punishment.

~.~

The three-hour train ride had been terrible enough that Bellamy had resorted to rereading the first half of Catcher In the Rye to fill the time. Octavia had plugged in to her iPod the second she sat down, still feeling the aftermath of the tense weekend they spent with their mom. He knew she was worrying about how Marcus would take it when he learned she still wasn’t planning on coming back. 

Her father-his stepfather-would not take it lightly, that much they were certain of.

When they got off the train and entered Grand Central he felt a wave of exhaustion come over him. Suddenly all he wanted was to shower and pass out in his bed before writing his Classical Civilization’s essay that was due tomorrow, one that he had yet to start.

Marcus greeted them with a wide smile and instantly took Octavia’s bag from her hands. “You guys enjoy your weekend? How’s your mom?”

Octavia had chosen this moment to finally pull her ear buds out and glanced at Bellamy awkwardly. He shoved his hands into his pockets and merely shrugged. When her eyes narrowed in warning, he glared in response. But knowing she wouldn’t be afraid to gouge his eyes out if need be, he sighed and gritted his teeth.

“She’s fine.” He said sheepishly. Marcus furrowed his eyebrows.

“Just fine?” He asked.

Octavia smiled warmly, “Yeah, Dad, _just_ fine.”

“Did she say anything-?”

“No.” Bellamy said before realizing how harsh he sounded. “I’m sorry, she didn’t say anything about coming back.” 

His stepdad simply nodded and looked down for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “Well, what do you guys say about brunch? I’ll cook.”

Octavia nearly groaned in relief. “Yes please. All we’ve eaten for the past two days is takeout.” Their mom may have been wonderful, talented and loving, but she could not cook to save her life.

Bellamy nodded in agreement and went to pick up Octavia’s other duffle bag before she could protest. They started for the large entrance where the town car was waiting outside, Marcus and Octavia walking in front of him and catching up. Seeing as Marcus was Octavia’s biological dad who had been in her life since she was seven, they were a lot closer than the two men. 

Bellamy’s actual father apparently wasn’t worth the breath, not that he cared. Marcus was a good man, and he loved their mother and cared for Bellamy like his own son. When applying to college a few years ago he had said no matter how expensive it was, he’d pay. 

He’d gotten into two different Ivy Leagues, but the only Ivy League he would’ve been willing to go to Columbia. When that rejection letter came, he simply accepted that he’d go to NYU, despite everyone’s protests. But even though Octavia had both her parents, private school and friends, he didn’t want to leave her. He couldn’t.

The first eleven years of his life he’d spent living on food stamps and hanging out with damaged teenagers in the Bronx. When Octavia was born he was four, and he took care of her the best way a four-year-old could. It got easier, as he got older, but it’d been the most difficult seven years he experienced in his short life. 

When Marcus found out the woman he had loved since high school had kept their daughter a secret, he pushed his way into their lives and eventually she gave in and let him help. They married right before he turned twelve, and suddenly they were moving into a nicer part of the city, one that wasn’t the Upper East Side thank god, but it was close enough for him. Everything became easy. He wasn’t used to easy.

Ten years later, and he’s still not used to it.

“How do you feel about waffles?” Marcus called over his shoulder. 

“Sounds great.” He replied. He was just about to start after them when he glanced up at the staircase in the center of the station-

And saw her.

Catching sight of the girl standing above him, looking around the grand room with wide eyes, made a much bigger impact on his lungs than he would’ve expected. 

He’s so tired, so ready to sleep and forget about all of his work, but upon seeing her it was like getting espresso injected directly into his veins.

She looked exactly the same yet completely different. Her blonde hair partially pulled back and cascading in waves around her shoulders. The clothes she wore casual but most likely worth more than his whole closet. Everything about her was just as he remembered.

But the air surrounding her: that was different. She used to look like she was glowing whenever you saw her, with a bright light no one could extinguish. She was terrifying and icy and made people want to cringe and smile at the same time. 

Now, she still had that halo, and he could assume she was still an ice queen, but she seemed to shrink into herself, unsure of her presence, even in a room full of strangers.

Strangers. He ducked his head before she could see him. 

He clenched his free hand tight enough to draw blood and rushed to catch up with Marcus and Octavia, trying to get the feeling of burning out of his lungs.

What was big enough that the Upper East Side Princess felt the need to emerge from the shadows?

He made it his very intention to stay far enough away to not find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home was her father, arm over her shoulder while they watched football on Sundays. Home was waking up to him making pancakes in the morning...
> 
> And then home was a man who was like an uncle to her and a girl who was like a sister and a boy who she wished had been like a brother and turned out to be something so much different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a lot longer than I thought it would, very sorry for that. But seriously, thank you to everyone who has read this and commented and left kudos and just been lovely in general, you guys are awesome. 
> 
> By the way, title cred goes to Youth by Daughter. It's a very Bellamy and Clarke song. Or just the 100 in general. Definitely listen to it if you get the chance.

It took everything in her to walk into the hospital that still haunted her memories. She kept telling herself it was for Wells, it’s all for Wells. But that didn’t prevent the memories from seeping through her mind and reminding her what happened the last time she took a single step into that building.

The world had seemingly collapsed, and she was given a sedative that made her feel like her brain was rotting for three days.

But Wells was there, in his own little world, lost and upset and she didn’t know why but god she wanted to know what was happening in that head of his. So she forced herself up to the front desk, saying her mother would’ve called. A kind nurse led her to a secluded room with yellow walls. There was an array of flower arrangements, ones that hurt her eyes. She was tempted to throw them all into the trash, because she knew that Wells would probably do it himself.

If he wasn’t on suicide watch.

He was still recovering. It had been barely twenty-four hours since it happened and he would most likely remain in the hospital for a few days before being transferred. Transferred home or to a rehabilitation center was yet to be determined.

At the sight of him, skin sickly and face tense in his sleep, she had to lean against the wall for a long minute and watch him with heaviness in her eyes. She suddenly felt so tired, so done with everything that had happened today. She wished she’d never gone to that damn luncheon; never saw Raven or her mother or everyone else who was silently judging her with their eyes. 

She wanted to go home. But boarding school wasn’t home, neither was the apartment. 

Home was her father, arm over her shoulder while they watched football on Sundays. Home was waking up to him making pancakes in the morning. 

And then home was Octavia’s apartment, that loft with barely enough space for three people but they managed to make it comfortable anyways. Home was Marcus Kane offering to make her waffles because he knew how much she hated pancakes. Home was a boy who wasn’t so much of a boy as he was a man who took her to a bar when she was barely seventeen and he barely twenty so he could teach her to play pool while she drank Pepsi. Home was a man who was like an uncle to her and a girl who was like a sister and a boy who she wished had been like a brother and turned out to be something so much different.

Clarke didn’t have a home. She lost her main one when her father died. And then she lost the one that could’ve mended her pathetic, tragedy-ridden mind if she had the guts to stay, if she hadn’t let that boy get to her.

But alas, she wasn’t as strong as she let people make her out to be. 

So here she was.

She seated herself in the uncomfortable armchair close to the bed. He looked pale and weak, fragile. Wells had always been a soft person, one who hadn’t felt as if he belonged in this little world of charity galas and having a limousine at his beck and call. 

No, he was one who marched across the city with tens of thousands of angered civilians after the grand jury decided not to indict the police officers that killed Eric Gardner. He was one who never used the Jaha name to further his interests, except when he told every news reporter that would listen about his fury with their fucked up society. He had been dragging Clarke to food banks and soup kitchens since they were in middle school, telling her they had to do _something_ good that didn’t involve their money.

He denied their place in the world his whole life. He denied it when his father remarried when he was still a kid; he denied it when he was offered internships at companies that simply wanted to get into Jaha’s good graces. He denied it unless it was something that helped others. With the news reporters, with Jasper Jordan, a boy who was a scientific genius who almost lost his scholarship for private school and Wells convinced them to let him keep it. 

He was everything Clarke wasn’t. She had taken her spot in the universe on top of a mountain of ice. She let her mother dress her up for charity galas and she smiled for cameras. And when she tried to stray from this world and into the one of a brother and sister with hearts of steel, she was blown straight back into it.

Her hand reached out and gently grasped his cold one. She ran her thumb over his knuckles and watched as he breathed, in and out. When she leaned forward and rested her head on the bed next to their hands, she felt tears hit the bed sheet. Her eyes drifted closed, and she let the world fade while holding on to him for dear life.

He was supposed to be the alive and healthy one, the one who got to escape and run away. Not the one wasting away in a cold room.

 

She felt his hand in her hair, gentle but weak. It took all her willpower not to jump up and cling to him in relief. Instead she grasped his wrist and raised her head up.

“I’ve been saying your name for five minutes.” He murmured in slight annoyance, but there was a smile on his face. She could’ve sobbed at the sight of it.

“Hi.” She choked out. 

“Hi.” He wound their fingers together. His skin was still cold, but he didn’t look as pale.

“How are you?” She asked. 

He sighed and let his eyes glance upwards at the ceiling. “Shitty.”

She barked out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I’d assume so. You dumbass.”

“Still prickly, I see.” The smile grew. She would’ve hit him.

“Yeah, boarding school doesn’t change that.” She replied with a small smirk.

He looked at her, eyes full of worry. “You’re still there, right?”

Clarke could understand it. He had been supportive of her when she left, told her the city was toxic and he thought it was the best idea she’d ever had, leaving. She joked he was just tired of having her around, but she knew he was serious. He thought the place would’ve wrecked her. It did, to an extent. 

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m still there.” 

He let out a breath of relief. “Good.” He looked like he wanted to say something more but there was a hesitance. Her hand tightened in his.

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” She assured him. “Okay? Not until you’re ready. Or never, if you want.”

Protest filled his eyes, but before he could act on it there was a rush of footsteps and the sound of her mother’s voice filling the small room.

“Clarke,” she said in astonishment, “you didn’t come home, I was worried.”

Clarke pressed her lips tightly together. “I figured you thought I’d stay here.”

“And sleep in a chair?” Her voice raised in pitch. She could’ve winced at the sound of it. 

“Mom, it’s fine, I’m fine.” She tried to say, but Abby had already moved on.

“How are you, Wells?” She asked her best friend’s son, her voice softer.

“I’m doing better.” Wells said with an easy smile. “It’s nice to have Clarke here.”

“Oh, of course, I’m sure you’ve missed each other.” And there it was, another little sentence poking at Clarke’s ribs. As if to say, _look what happens when you abandon your friends._

“Clarke,” Abby said to her, voice gentle, “I’m sure you want to go home and sleep in an actual bed. I’m about to start my shift, I’ll keep an eye on Wells.”

Clarke glanced at Wells with raised eyebrows. They communicated telepathically with their eyes, as they had since they were little.

_I’ll stay as long as you want._

_Clarke please go take a shower. You smell. And one of your shoulders is higher than the other._

She rolled her shoulders back and glared at him as she stood. He just continued to hold that smile on his face. “I’ll come back in a few hours.” She said. Both her mom and Wells looked unhappy at that, but she gave them both the iciest look she could before grabbing her bag and pressing a fat kiss on Wells cheek.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” She said quietly. He nodded and gave her hand a final squeeze. She pulled away, nodded at her mother, and then rushed out of the room as fast as she could.

Polluted city air never tasted better.

~.~

“Why are you taking AP Physics? You already have two more science credits than required. What are you trying to be, a fucking rocket scientist?” Octavia looked about ready to throw the stack of notecards Raven had handed her a minute ago straight at her face. 

They took a booth in the corner of their traditional café, a rustic atmosphere filled with starving artists who still managed to afford a MacBook. Afterschool Monday routine was pouring over the mass amount of homework Constance gave them and procrastinating with multiple cups of coffee.

“You know how desperate colleges are for female engineers?” Raven glowered. “Fifty thousand scholarships just waiting to be handed to a girl who defies gender stereotypes?”

“Yes, Raven,” Octavia glowered right back, “because you of all people need a scholarship.”

Raven clenched the coffee cup in her hand and mentally chastised herself. She was still getting used to being friends with someone who didn’t have nearly as much money as her and liked to make it a known fact. Although Octavia didn’t want everyone to know so much as she wanted everyone to know that she was fine with it. She had a lot of pride, both a blessing and a curse. Despite not being an Upper East Side native with millionaire parents, she was still well off. Better than she used to be at least.

Raven could only imagine the crap Octavia and her brother had to go through the first half of their lives.

“Maybe you should consider engineering. Or graphic design.” She smirked at Octavia. “That would get you a scholarship in an instant.”

Octavia made a gagging noise. “Right, me, hunched over a computer for a living. You’re hilarious.” She flicked a notecard at Raven who just laughed.

They had only been friends for a year. Raven didn’t even notice Octavia before that, the girl below her grade who needed financial aid to attend their private school. She heard of her mother, Aurora Blake, who had a decently successful fashion line. But she hadn’t heard of or properly met Octavia until Clarke started hanging around her and her older brother.

And when she left Octavia found Raven and sort of shoved herself into her life. Clarke and Raven had been thick as thieves since freshman year after the terrible fifteen-year-old Finn incident. When Raven transferred to Constance second semester Clarke was the only friend she had. 

And then she was gone, forcing Raven to make a name for herself. Which she did perfectly fine. So why the hell did her old best friend have to come back and threaten to tear down all the walls she’d done so well building?

“Holy-Clarke, hey!”

Raven whirled around to see the blonde as if Satan himself had conjured her up. Clarke looked over from where she waited in line and a tired smile crossed her lips. Immediately Raven felt the slightest twinge of guilt. She was in town because her best friend-probably the only best friend she had left-almost died. Nothing was wrong with returning to the city for that.

“Octavia.” Clarke said, the exhaustion clear in her voice. Still, she made her way over. Octavia met her halfway, immediately pulling her into a hug.

“I heard you were back, I just didn’t know if I’d see you.”

“I would’ve called-“

“But you’ve been busy.” Octavia finished, voice quiet but understanding. She nuzzled her face into Clarke’s hair, a clear normalcy between them. Raven felt an odd feeling in her stomach.

“It’s good to see you.” Clarke said as she pulled away. 

Octavia grinned. “Yeah, you too.”

Clarke looked over Octavia’s shoulder to smile at Raven. “Hey.” She offered.

Raven smiled back tightly. “How’s Wells?”

Clarke’s smile dropped. “He’s…good. Recovering.”

Octavia looked between the two, noticing the obvious tension. Raven had given her the briefest of summaries earlier: “Clarke showed up and acted very un-Clarke like and then left, like she always does.” Octavia hadn’t replied then, her lips thinning as she drifted off into her own thoughts. Raven knew she was worrying about her brother.

“Anyway,” Clarke said uneasily. “I’m just getting some coffee and heading back over there to see him.”

Octavia squeezed her hand in assurance. “Tell him I said hi?”

“I will.” She replied and pulled away. She made it two feet towards the line at the front of the coffee shop before spinning back around. “Hey, Raven, I’ll be at our old spot around eight, if you wanna join. Grab a drink or two.” She glanced at Octavia. “You should come.”

Raven conjured up the first, most lame excuse she could think of and opened her mouth to spit it out, but Octavia spoke quickly.

“We’ll be there.” She said firmly and stared Raven down, daring her to protest.

Raven slumped against the table, defeated. “Sure.”

~.~

Clarke felt like an idiot, sitting at the bar of the restaurant she and Raven used to come to practically every week. She wore jeans and a black blouse, which, compared to the attire of everyone else in the restaurant, may as well have been pajamas.

But she didn’t get a chance to change seeing as she was avoiding the apartment as much as possible, therefore playing nearly ten rounds of chess with Wells until she had just enough time to take a taxi down to the restaurant and get there before Raven or Octavia. She had to be at least slightly buzzed if she was going to face Raven’s wrath. It was inevitable.

She’d gotten down two martinis when Raven waltzed in, clad in red lipstick and chandelier earrings. Clarke’s clothes sank below pajamas and fell into rags.

“Octavia here yet?” Raven asked thinly as she slid onto a stool next to her. 

“Did you give her the address?” Clarke asked in return. Raven’s eyes narrowed.

“Of course I did.”

Clarke took a large sip of her drink. “Right, no, she’s not here yet.”

She scoffed. “She’ll probably be late. Typical.”

“She has a tendency to arrive later than expected, doesn’t she?” Clarke said with a small smile. 

Raven eyed her cautiously. “Yeah, she does.”

She ordered herself a martini and picked at her nails. “So, how long you in town for?”

“Until Wells is better.” Clarke said firmly.

“How long is that going to be?”

“However long it takes.”

“Fantastic.” Raven deadpanned. “I’m sure everyone is delighted to see you.”

“Yeah, sure, everyone.” Clarke mumbled.

“What, you expected people to get down on their knees and worship you the second you stepped off that train?” Raven asked, her voice challenging.

“What?” Clarke’s eyes widened. “No, of course not.”

“Not everyone is happy you’re here.”

“You think I don’t know that?” She snapped. “Yes, I’m not exactly the most pleasant person, I know, Raven. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone fucking hates me.”

Raven’s face softened. There was a moment of silence. Clarke swallowed down the rest of her drink and grimaced. 

“Not everyone hates you, Clarke.” Raven said quietly. Clarke glanced up hesitantly.

“How’s your mom?” Clarke finally asked.

Raven shrugged. “Better. I mean, still off the rails, but better.”

“That’s good. I’m sorry about your dad, and everything.”

“It’s fine. They were never going to get married, I know that.” She paused. “You would’ve too, I suppose, if you ever called. Or wrote. Or, just, _something_.” She tried to keep the aggressiveness out of her voice, but she was not popular for being good at shielding her emotions. Especially anger.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke said desperately. “Boarding school was just-crazy.”

“Hey, I get it.” Raven assured her, but the frustration was still there. “Just, imagine calling Abigail Griffin, asking where her daughter is, and being told that you had suddenly disappeared off to some boarding school in Connecticut. You were never going to tell me, or Octavia, or anyone else that you’d left, let alone _why_.”

Clarke winced. “I know.” Was all she could answer with. It was weak and petty, but she wasn’t ready to tell anyone, even Raven, why she had left in the first place.

It was simple. If she told Raven, she would tell Octavia. And then it would be wildfire, and everything would become a whirlwind of unneeded drama.

“I’ve missed you.” Clarke said.

Raven flattened her lips together before replying. “I’ve missed you too.”

The rest of the half hour Clarke spent there was filled with awkward small talk. How Harper and Monroe were, how dreadful Murphy had been lately. They avoided the topic of Finn, neither of them taking a single foot in that direction. 

Octavia, unsurprisingly, failed to show up. But when Clarke stood to leave she was surprised with the hug Raven gave her. “Love you, C.” Raven murmured into her ear. How quickly the girl could go from fiery rage to fiery warmth was terrifying, but Clarke would take it. She knew Raven; she was the other sister she never had.

“Love you too, Reyes.” Clarke murmured back and pecked her cheek. 

As she stepped out into the night, she saw a slender brunette walk up the sidewalk.

“Nice of you to make an appearance.” Clarke mused. She predicted Octavia had intentionally caught a later bus to give Clarke and Raven some time to hash things out. Unfortunately, there was still plenty to be hashed out. On the plus side, things were ten times better than they had been yesterday.

“Sorry, public transportation is a bitch.” Octavia didn’t sound sorry at all. She grinned and leaned against the wall of the restaurant. “She still in there?”

Clarke glanced back through the window to see Raven, chin resting on her hand as she studied the art on the walls. She looked like a regal queen. “Yeah, and she’s barely buzzed.”

“Are you leaving already?”

“It’s been a long day.” Clarke said, letting the tiredness seep into her voice. 

“I get that.” Octavia smiled. “Could I by any chance borrow your phone real quick? Mine’s almost dead and I need to make a call.”

Clarke handed over her phone wordlessly. Octavia’s smile broadened. She dialed a number from memory and turned away. Clarke took the chance to walk up to the edge of the sidewalk and attempt to hail down a taxi.

“I just got here, Raven’s here.” Octavia said quietly. “We’ll split a cab, don’t worry.” She paused as the person on the other end spoke and glanced over at Clarke. “No, it’s just us two.”

Clarke tried to ignore it, she really did. A taxi pulled up, much to her relief, but not in time for her to hear what came next.

“My phone’s dying, that’s why…It’s just someone who was standing outside the restaurant-no, it’s a woman, a very innocent, charming woman who is standing a few feet away right now. God dammit, Bellamy, chill out.”

Clarke slipped into the cab and gave the driver her address. She couldn’t bring herself to care when she dumbly remembered three minutes later Octavia was talking on her phone.

She arrived back at the apartment building prepared to get upstairs and collapse into bed. Right as she made her way up to the entrance, she unfailingly noticed the shadowed figure leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. 

“Murphy?” She said with disbelief. He raised his head, confirming that it was sadly the boy who used to be the bane of her existence.

“Princess.” He smirked. “You didn’t say hi yesterday at Reyes’. I’m crushed.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged away from the wall and stepped towards her, slinking out of the shadows and into the light pouring through the glass doors of the building. “Jaha is currently having a very important discussion with your mom. We were supposed to grab dinner but,” he glanced down at his watch, “that was twenty minutes ago.”

“Great.” She grumbled. She studied him as he dropped his cigarette to the ground and pressed against it with the toe of his shoe. “Have you visited Wells?”

He avoided her stare, choosing instead to watch the rush of traffic behind her. “I don’t think he wants to see me.”

“You’re his brother.”

“Stepbrother, technically.”

“You’ve been stepbrothers for more than ten years.” She pointed out. “Last time I checked, you guys were tolerating each other.”

“Yeah, well, princess, you haven’t been very good at checking in lately have you?” He met her stare head on. She froze.

Tense, dark silence ensued. Yes, she realized, she hadn’t been good at checking in as of late. If she had, maybe she would’ve noticed her best friend slipping away. Maybe she would’ve discovered something was wrong before it was too late.

Murphy seemed to know what she was thinking. He sighed. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Clarke.”

“You’re fine.” She said quickly, but the distress was obvious. “You’re completely right. I should’ve-shit, I should’ve been here.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Then why does it feel like it is?” She asked weakly. He looked at her, bundled up in her black pea coat, obvious vulnerability clear on her face. She surprisingly looked younger than she had a year ago. A year ago she was wearing heels and makeup and clothes that complimented her shape, desperate to look like she was more than just a teenage girl. Now, she looked closed off and colder than ever, but sad. Empty. Somehow, it made her look her actual age.

They had grown up together. Not as Clarke and Wells did. They were twins from different wombs. But Murphy and Clarke knew each other better than they knew the rest of their friends. It wasn’t obvious. They never made it a known fact they knew each other’s dark secrets. There was some unknown truce between them. Keep their distance and don’t spill any secrets.

Heart to hearts with them never ended well. Someone usually ended up being punched in the face. And Clarke was not kind when she hit someone.

“I think our parents are screwing each other.” He said.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me, Murphy?”

He threw up his hands innocently. “This is the third time this sort of thing has happened. Do you know how many cigarettes I’ve smoked because of those two? You would think middle-aged people wouldn’t keep it up this long-”

“Oh, Christ.” She groaned and ran a hand over her face. “It’s been what, not even two years?” She practically yelled. “Barely three for your fucked up stepdad? His _son_ is in the hospital.”

“Yes, Clarke, these are all known facts.” Murphy said.

“Why would you bring that up? What the _hell_ , John?” She hissed.

“What, would you rather I bring up Bellamy?”

She started, eyes widening and mouth parting in shock. He waited for a response. It never came.

“Does he know your back?” He continued, almost gleeful at the reaction he’d gotten from her. “I mean, the younger Blake obviously does, but he’s too old for Gossip Girl, so I’m assuming-“

“What.” She said finally, voice dark. “Is your problem?”

He stopped, noticing the ice-cold glare she gave him. “What’s yours, princess?” He asked.

She clenched her jaw tightly. “Fuck off, Murphy.” She said and turned to storm into the building. The doorman just barely opened a door in time for her to fly through. The man gave him a sheepish grin. 

Murphy merely shrugged and lit another cigarette.

~.~

 

Octavia suppressed a giggle as she tore the covers off Bellamy. He groaned loudly. “What the fuck, Wick?”

“Wick’s at work.” She chirped. He opened an eye to see his sister standing above him. “It’s four in the afternoon, Bellamy.” 

“I had a morning class.” He tugged a blanket over his head. “And work in three hours. So, I’d really fucking appreciate it if-”

She grabbed the blanket and threw it off the bed. “Get up.” She said loudly and turned to flounce out of the room. “I’ll make coffee.” 

He didn’t, in fact, get up. Not until she came back in a few minutes later and threatened to pour the coffee over his head. With that he had to follow her into the living space of the cramped apartment in order to be handed the mug.

“What is the reason I’ve been graced with your presence?” He asked drily.

“Clarke’s back.” She said.

He tried-and failed-to hide the wince that was his reaction. “Right to the point then.” He muttered.

“You knew.” She accused. She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “Have you been reading Gossip Girl?”

“God, O,” he groaned, “no, I have not been reading that shitty blog. I saw her at Grand Central.”

“You’ve known this whole time?” She yelled. 

This time he didn’t try to hide his wince. “Yes.” He said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because there’s nothing to say.” He said darkly.

“Bullshit!” She exclaimed. “She disappears without a trace, no explanation, leaving you to be all gloomy and annoying, and now she’s back and you just have nothing to say?” She didn’t believe it for a second. Now that she thought about it, she knew he had been acting weird the past few days. After they got back from their mom’s he was oddly silent, making negative comments here and there but not much else. That was usual for Bellamy, so she and Marcus didn’t think much of it.

But those negative comments and obvious discomfort had a proper cause. Clarke Griffin, princess of New York City. While Octavia was glad, no, fucking relieved that she was back, she was still upset about the lack of contact the girl had made, and the pain she had unknowingly put her brother through.

That was something she had yet to bring up with her, but once she did she would be relentless. You don’t hurt her brother and get away with it, no matter how close you are to her.

“That’s exactly it, O.” Bellamy said flatly. “She can do whatever she wants. I don’t care, unlike the rest of this fucking city.”

“Oh, please.” She growled. “You care more than any of us.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“You don’t get to do this.” She said. “You don’t get to close yourself off from me and pretend there’s no reason. That’s not how this works.”

“Octavia, leave it alone.” He sighed and set his now empty coffee cup on the table. He still looked tired, hair in disarray and clothes wrinkled. Two part-time jobs and college all on top of his pent up personal baggage was taking a toll on him. It worried her.

“No.” She said gently. “I’m not going to sit around and watch you beat yourself up while she’s in town, okay?” 

She pulled an object out of her back pocket and tossed it at him. He caught it in surprise. “I need you to drop that off at her apartment building. The doorman knows you.”

He looked down at the phone in his hands. “Where did you get this?”

“Last night.” His head shot up, eyes widening in realization. 

“You were with her.” He said.

“I didn’t lie.” She defended. “Just skimmed on the details.”

His hand clenched the phone tightly. “I can’t, Octavia.”

“You don’t have to see her.” She assured him. “You just have to give it to the front desk. Make sure she gets it back.”

He stared at it hard enough to burn a hole. 

She didn’t know if she wanted Clarke to end up running into him when he dropped it off or if she wanted them to never see each other ever again. They were good together, before. It was purely innocent, simple forehead kisses Octavia pretended she didn’t see and obnoxious hand holding underneath the table. So many little memories wedging their way back into the front of Octavia’s mind, ones that filled her with nostalgia for the time when she had a sister with blonde hair and a brother who looked like he could finally be emotionally unstable with someone. Someone who would be just as unstable and still manage to provide a foundation that healed him.

But look where that got all of them, Octavia couldn’t help but think glumly. And now she just threw the fate of those two hopeless human beings into the sky and said to the stars, catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, noticed how I slipped into Murphy's perspective at the end of Clarke's? That was unintentional but he sort of took control of the chapter and did his thing, so well, there it is. Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heels clicked against the floor. At first they were consistent, but as they drew closer, they slowed and finally stopped completely.
> 
> “Bellamy?” A quiet voice asked. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest.
> 
> Despite everything, he turned around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I am terrible. I am so sorry this took forever. I actually wrote three quarters of it then sorta shut it away from my sight because I thought it was so awful. So. This feels really half-assed but bear with me, hopefully the summer will bring back my average writing skills.
> 
> On the other hand, I got nominated for the Bellarke Fanfiction Awards for _By Tomorrow_ and lemme just say who the fuck nominated me? Like tell me who you are so I can bake you cookies or just love you. Seriously, the people in that category are so damn talented and I am not worthy. But you guys rock, honestly. 
> 
> Here, have a crappy chapter as thanks.

Nathan Miller was not one for morning exercise. Especially when he was hung over.

Yes, it was six am on a Wednesday, yes he had school in two hours, and yes, he had spent his night in some swanky bar Murphy dragged him to because he was “bored.”

But when Chief Miller drags you out of bed and practically commands you run with him for his four-mile trek, you don’t refuse. 

“How’s Harper?” Is the first thing his father asked, two miles into in the run.

Nathan swallowed the lump in his throat and gasped for air. “Do we really want to discuss my love life right now?”

“Seeing as this is the only time we’ve seen each other this whole week, yes.” He sped up. Nathan resisted the urge to scoff. The man was more than twenty years older than him and he still managed to outrun him every time.

“She’s nice,” he started, glancing at his father for a reaction, “but I don’t know if we’d work.”

“What, she not pretty enough for you?” His dad raised a brow.

“God, no, it’s not that.” He groaned. “She just-we don’t-work.”

“Well, you’ll need to come up with a better excuse than that son.” His father patted him on the back, which felt more like a hard slap that made Nathan stumble. “Women don’t like vague rejections.”

Would he be pleased if Nathan just told him outright he was gay? 

He studied his father closely, dripping in sweat and breathing heavily, but his eyes glowed. Yeah, he was a pushover, and yeah, he would probably disown Nathan if he found out, but he loved him.

His father was the only family he had. And despite the acceptance of sexuality amongst his friends, his dad’s was the most important to him. 

If getting that acceptance meant Nathan had to keep up the charade for a while longer, than fuck, he’d deal with it.

Hopefully it’d be enough.

~.~

When Octavia told Bellamy to drop the phone off at the front desk, he thought it’d be just as simple as she said-drop the phone off and run.

Unfortunately, in this part of town, people like a story explained with precise detail as to how you came by a person’s belonging in the first place.

“So you said you found it where?” The receptionist asked for the third time. His eyes were narrowed, studying Bellamy from his dirty work boots to the mess of hair on his head.

He clenched his hand into a fist on the counter. “Like I said, I didn’t find it, I’m just dropping it off for my sister.”

“And how did she find it?”

Dear. God. He forgot how much he hated this place.

“The doorman remembers me.” He said slowly. “You saw him say hi to me on my way in.” It had been a pleasant surprise, seeing the kind old man who Clarke used to give chocolate croissants to practically every day. But then the receptionist was, unsurprisingly, not the one from a year ago.

“That’s great, I’m happy for you two.” The man behind the desk said, his voice dripping in sarcasm. He still looked suspicious. “How did your sister get the phone?”

He ran a hand over his face in exasperation. “What I said before-my sister borrowed her phone, Clarke Griffin left before she could give it back. She knew I’d be in the neighborhood and asked me to drop it off.”

The man hummed quietly. “And what exactly are you doing in the neighborhood?”

Before Bellamy could say something he’d probably regret, the receptionist was looking over his shoulder. “Ah, there’s Miss Griffin now, why don’t we ask about her side of the story.”

It took everything in him not to turn around. “That’s really not necessary-“ he said lowly, but the concierge was already calling the supposed Miss Griffin over.

Heels clicked against the floor. At first they were consistent, but as they drew closer, they slowed and finally stopped completely.

“Bellamy?” A quiet voice asked. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest.

Despite everything, he turned around.

She held a coffee cup in one hand, her hair a mess of curls. Heavy bags hung under her eyes, but she still looked, well, she still looked as she always did. 

Knots tightened in his stomach. He found it a lot harder to breathe than he thought. “Hi.” He said shortly.

Her eyes were wide, bright blue and full of what looked like a mix of fear and relief. They flickered past him to the concierge, landing on the phone in his hand.

“Oh, god, I totally forgot about that.” She laughed shakily. 

He found it very hard to speak.

“You know this man, Miss Griffin?” The man behind him asked.

“Yes, Martin, I know him.” She smiled thinly. “Thank you.”

The elevators on the other side of the building dinged as one opened. As Abigail Griffin stepped out of one, Bellamy cringed internally. The whole situation was getting worse and worse every second.

She stilled at the sight of Clarke and Bellamy. “Clarke.” She said. “I didn’t know you were back from the hospital.” Her eyes landed on Bellamy and went dark. He gulped. She was still just as terrifying as before.

“Just got here.” Clarke said weakly and held up the coffee cup. 

“I see.” Abby’s stare didn’t leave him. He stayed still. “I heard one of your former classmates is having a party this Friday. You’re attending of course, right?” She sounded so sure of herself.

From the look on Clarke’s face, she had heard of this party, and she had definitely not been happy about it. “Uh, no,” she stuttered, “I wasn’t planning on going to that.”

Abby tore her gaze from Bellamy, eyes widening at her daughter. ‘What do you mean?”

Clarke looked from Bellamy to her mom, trying to conjure up some sort of excuse. “I already have plans?” She squeaked out.

Her mom raised a brow. “Plans with whom?”

Bellamy felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked at Clarke, who seemed to be silently apologizing. It dawned on him what she was thinking. His own eyes widened and he shook his head frantically.

“Plans with Bellamy.” Clarke said without looking away. God fucking dammit he’d forgotten how stubborn she was.

“Bellamy?” Abby sounded out his name slowly. “I didn’t know you two were talking.”

We’re not, Bellamy wanted to say. 

“We wanted to catch up.” Clarke said quickly. “Before I left.” She looked at him pleadingly. 

He took a deep breath to quench his growing anger. This was not what he had signed up for. Seeing her at Grand Central was one thing, but being here, in a familiar place, standing next to her and looking at her, it was too much.

But she seemed desperate, and he understood. She had been one who enjoyed her fair share of parties, but she also kept to herself, something not many people realized. She liked the quiet, she liked feeling safe.

He’d made her feel safe. He knew that. That was one of the only reasons she even took notice of him.

Still, he found himself saying, “Yeah, catching up. We uh, thought it’d be nice.”

It was awful and he practically choked getting the words out, but he could almost hear Clarke sending him silent thank you’s. He ignored it.

“Well,” Abby said, “that’s unfortunate. I know your friends would’ve loved to see you.” She looked at Bellamy one last time. “Maybe there will be another before you go back to school.”

Clarke smiled, “Of course, mom.”

Her mother smiled back, and then sort of nodded before turning to walk through the front doors. 

“Thank you.” He heard Clarke say quietly.

He swallowed thickly. “Yeah, no problem.” He turned away, hoping to walk out without another word.

“Bellamy?” She asked. The sound of her voice, shy and vulnerable, made him look over his shoulder. She clutched the coffee cup in her hands, looking unsure of herself.

“How are you?” She asked finally.

Fucking fantastic, he thought to himself.

“I’m good.” He said flatly. “And you?”

She nodded to herself. “Yeah, me too.”

He was on the brink of getting out of there alive, until she ruined all his chances of escaping.

“So, how does eight o’clock on Friday sound?”

For a reason unknown to man, he said, “Sounds good.”

She would be the death of him.

 

~.~

Raven didn’t know what it was, maybe it was Clarke’s return, but suddenly, looking at Finn was sort of just painful. 

He sat across from her in the restaurant, looking oddly cheerful. She knew she’d had the grumpy cat look on her face the whole time, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Which pissed her off.

“What’s up with you?” She asked. He swallowed a bite of his sandwich and looked at her questioningly.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You’re all, happy.” She waved a hand at him.

“I can’t be happy having dinner with my girlfriend?” He sounded hurt. Good.

“You’ve been moping lately.” She said. “And all the sudden it’s as if you’re in fucking Disneyland. Seriously, what the hell happened to you?”

“I could ask you the same question. What’s shoved up your ass?”

She found herself laughing. “Is it because of Clarke?”

“What?”

“You know, I liked to think that you got over her, forgot about her after freshman year, but I’m starting to think I was wrong. You know she’s not back for good, right?” She was so smug she could’ve punched herself.

“Raven, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” From the look on his face, he knew exactly what she was talking about.

But he wouldn’t budge she knew that. Sometimes she wondered why she even stayed in a relationship with him. They worked better when they weren’t fighting over the stupid things people who are dating fight about. And that was basically never. There was always something to be angry about on her part. It was unfair, but he just made her so damn frustrated.

“You know what, forget it.” She muttered and stuffed a French fry in her mouth. “Forget I said anything.”

When he smiled at her, all soft and happy, she tried to ignore the terrible tightening in her chest.

~.~

“Why is my daughter seeing your son?”

This was not what Marcus had in mind when he came into work at the gallery this morning.

He turned to see Abby Griffin standing in the center of the room, arms crossed over her chest expectantly. 

“Abby,” he said smoothly. “Lovely to see you.”

“Did you know?” She spent no time on polite introductions, as usual. “That they were speaking to each other again?”

He leaned against the table he was working at. “I had no idea. It makes sense though, doesn’t it? When Octavia said Clarke was back I knew it was only a matter of time.”

“She’s not staying.” Abby said firmly. “She’s here to visit Wells and then she’s going back to school. Away from here.”

“I thought you would’ve wanted her to come home.” He frowned. 

“Why is your son speaking to my daughter?” She got louder, more frustrated.

“Because believe it or not, Abby, she likes him.” He crossed his own arms as he spoke, presenting a challenge

“He was a phase.” She protested.

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t call Bellamy ‘a phase.’ He was more-is more and you know it. If I’m correct, you’re one of the reasons they broke up in the first place.” 

“They were never dating.” She flew forward. “And now he’s wound his way back into her life, one she has so desperately worked to separate from this world.”

“You’re being a bit hypocritical here, Abigail.”

“I know what’s best for my daughter.”

“And I know what’s best for Bellamy. She was good for him.” He said gently.

“He was not good for her.” She contradicted.

“Have you ever wondered if maybe, they worked things out, she would be willing to stay?” He asked.

She paused, looking unsure of herself. He waited patiently.

“I’d rather she stayed on her own terms.” She said finally.

“Then stop pushing her.” If Abby was just as he remembered, he knew she was. The second her daughter returned she would be working to force her to stay. It was all she knew how to do.

She turned to look at the paintings on the walls silently. “How’s your wife, Marcus?” She asked, changing the subject completely.

“She’s still not here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“My mistake.”

She looked at him, a small frown on her lips. “He was part of the reason why she left in the first place, you know that.”

“And you were the other, Abigail.”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it, him trying to talk to her again, did you? Using your own stepson to get back at me?” She sounded curious.

“We’re adults here, Abby.” He walked across the room to his desk at the front of the gallery. “Besides, I’m not really the revenge type.”

She laughed drily. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”

He smirked at her. “Nothing you can prove.”

Seeing her smile reminded him of years ago, before when their lives were much like the ones of their own kids. Clarke, an Upper East Side girl with a wish for a quiet, simple life, but a thirst for something adventurous, something more. Yet Bellamy was different in that way, because he always seemed to be the quiet boy who hated everything about his quiet life. Clarke had given that to him.

So if they were going to return to their old ways, he wouldn’t stop them, yet-

“If there’s anything you should be worried about, Abby,” he said, “it’s your daughter breaking his heart.”

She turned away from the paintings on the wall and stared at him. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

He resisted the urge to smile.


End file.
